Nadia Knows Best (15 page)

“Well?” Jay's mouth was twitching once more at the corners, his eyebrows lifting inquiringly as he spoke. “What's the verdict?”

Not giving him the chance to back off again, Nadia reached over and hooked her hand behind his neck. Pulling him toward her, she kissed him gently at first, then harder. Joyfully, she felt Jay respond. Making the first move wasn't something she was familiar with, but this time he'd provoked her, he'd
made
her make it.

Gosh, and was she glad she had. He was a gorgeous kisser. His arms were round her, his warm hands moving against her back—

Rrrrring
rrrring
, sang the phone on the table in front of them and Nadia froze.

“Bloody hell,” Jay muttered under his breath. Heaving a sigh he broke away. “Any other day, I'd ignore it…”

“But not today. Go on, pick it up. It's only a phone call,” Nadia reminded him, and Jay smiled.

“You're right. Don't go away.”

He'd meant it as a joke, but this was actually a lot easier said than done. Half sitting, half lying on the couch, pretending not to be listening to the phone call, Nadia's discomfort increased by the second. While she lay sprawled like some wanton trollop with her pink dress halfway up her thighs and her lipstick smudged, Jay paced around the sitting room and spoke on the phone to some distraught relative.

After a couple of minutes he said loudly, “Hang on a moment, Aunt Maureen, I just need to switch something off in the kitchen…”

Covering the mouthpiece, he turned to Nadia. “It's my mother's sister, Maureen. She's eighty-three and lives in a nursing home in Toronto. Her doctors wouldn't allow her to fly over for the funeral. She's very deaf and extremely upset about Anthony.”

A lump sprang into Nadia's throat. She shook her head, picturing a distraught old lady in a Canadian nursing home, desperate to hear about the funeral of her beloved nephew.

“Don't worry about me,” she told Jay as he headed for the door. “You go ahead, I'll be fine.”

No longer smiling, he shot her a look of gratitude and left the room.

Was this how mating dogs felt when they got a bucket of cold water unceremoniously chucked over them? Nadia sat up straight and pulled the hem of her dress down as far as it would go. Every ounce of desire had drained out of her, melted away along with the heady loosening effect of all that Meursault.

How could they have even considered doing anything so selfish? Jay's brother was dead, his funeral had taken place just a few hours ago. Romping around on a sofa was… God, it was practically sacrilegious, like seducing someone in the vestry while the vicar was taking Sunday School.

Nadia cringed, deeply ashamed of herself. It was all wrong. Jay was in a vulnerable state. God, why did it have to be so quiet in this room?

Straining her ears, she was just about able to hear the murmur of Jay's voice as he carried on talking to the ancient aunt. He was either at the far end of the hall or in the kitchen. Unable to bear the silence, Nadia reached for the remote and flicked on the TV. Typical late Friday night shows were on, featuring over-excited girls in bikinis cavorting in Spanish bars, swigging from bottles of beer, and declaring their intention to sleep with as many boys as possible before they passed out unconscious. The boys, clearly up for the challenge, bared their backsides for the cameras and went
Whooaar
a lot.

Hideously aware that what she and Jay had been on the verge of doing hadn't been a million miles from what she was now seeing on the screen—minus the puddles of vomit—Nadia hit the Off switch.

More silence.

It really was very quiet in here.

The desire may have gone, but the four glasses of wine were still swimming around in her veins. Nadia briefly pictured them doggy-paddling along in their water-wings. That was the incredible thing about alcohol; if you were excited it heightened the excitement. If you were sitting there doing nothing, the effect was soporific.

Since getting up and going home would be plain rude, Nadia kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up on the sofa. It was a really comfortable sofa, which helped. And the velvet cushions under her head were blissfully squidgy…

Crikey, imagine if they'd actually been
doing
it
when Aunt Maureen had struggled along on her walker to the pay phone and rung Jay to talk about Anthony's funeral…

Nice comfy sofa, mmm…

***

Nadia woke up at seven o'clock on Saturday morning with an aching head and a bladder fit to burst.

Urrgh.

Having visited the downstairs loo, she stumbled back to the living room and took in the rumpled blanket on the sofa. Jay had covered her with a crimson blanket, which wouldn't have gone with her pink dress at all.

The house was still silent.

Phew, thank goodness they hadn't done it.

Feeling commendably pure, Nadia phoned for a cab.

Arriving back home at seven thirty, she had banked on the rest of the household being asleep. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Tilly on the driveway, loading an overnight bag into the back of her mother's new car.

“Seven pounds fifty,” yawned the cab driver, who had been on duty for the last twelve hours and was just glad Nadia hadn't thrown up in the back of his car.

Mindlessly Nadia passed him a twenty and murmured, “Keep the change.”

Leonie, emerging from the house, exclaimed, “Darling, there you are, we were all wondering where you'd got to. Oh dear, I hope you realize how cheap you look. Last night's clothes… Saturday morning… act like a pushover and men will treat you like a pushover. It's not the way to gain their respect.”

Sometimes, Nadia marveled, her mother really was beyond belief.

“I didn't act like a pushover.”

Leonie glanced significantly at her crumpled pink dress. “Of course you didn't, darling. But I do think the least he could have done was drive you home. I always think it's so tacky when men pack last night's conquest off in a taxi.” Lowering her voice she added reprovingly, “Nor is it setting a good example to your sister.”

There were so many cutting ripostes jostling around in Nadia's brain (Me! No, me! No, no, let me say mine!) that she couldn't manage to get any of them out. Which, since Tilly was listening, was probably for the best.

“I slept on the sofa,” said Nadia, and Leonie, laughing merrily, pointed up at the sky.

“Ooh, look, flying pig.”

“Mum,” Tilly groaned. “Please don't.”

“Don't what? I'm just trying to give Nadia some perfectly sensible advice. I don't like to see my daughter looking cheap.”

Nadia was tempted to remind her mother that since walking out on them over twenty years ago, she hadn't been around to see her daughters looking
anything
. But what would be the point? She hugged Tilly instead and said, “Have fun. See you tomorrow night.”

“Come here, darling, give me a kiss.” Settling herself into the driver's seat, Leonie beckoned Nadia over. “I'm sorry if I've offended you, but I am your mother and I really am only trying to help. This chap of yours is a good-looking fellow, he can have his pick of girls. A man like him doesn't want a clinging limpet.”

Through gritted teeth Nadia said, “I'm not a clinging limpet.”

Oh God, she wasn't, was she?

“Don't ring him and ask when you're going to see him again,” advised Leonie. “They can't stand being pestered like that.”

“I know when I'm going to see him again,” Nadia reminded her mother. “He's my boss. I'll see him at work on Monday morning.”

“That's something else you should never do. Get involved with your boss.” Leonie switched on the ignition and fastened her seat belt. “That's just asking for trouble, sweetheart. Before you know it, you'll be dumped
and
out of a job.”

***

“It's for you,” said Miriam, handing the phone to Nadia.

Nadia wondered if it was Leonie, calling to remind her not to ring Jay.

“You left.”

Not Leonie after all. Her stomach tightening with pleasure—See? I didn't phone him, he phoned
me
—Nadia replied, “And they said you weren't observant.”

“You should have woken me. I would've driven you home.”

Hear that, Mother?

“I was up early. Sorry about falling asleep on your sofa.”

“And I'm sorry I abandoned you. Poor old Aunt Maureen,” said Jay. “She was on the phone for over an hour. I couldn't not speak to her.”

“Of course you couldn't. Really, it's OK.”

“Anyway, thanks for last night.”

“Thanks for what? I didn't do anything.” The phone rang, remember? The damn phone rang just as things were starting to get
interesting
.

“You know what I mean.” Jay sounded as if he was smiling. “Look, what are you doing tonight?”

Nadia's heart broke into a canter. Ooh, crikey, a repeat performance? A repeat performance, only this time with the phone left off the hook?

“Um…” A vivid mental image of Leonie flashed into her mind, tut-tutting and shaking her head in disapproval. Irritated, Nadia took a deep breath and attempted to banish the unwanted image.

But… but… hadn't she made her own executive decision last night? Admittedly only after Jay had taken the call from Aunt Maureen, but all the same. She'd realized that sleeping with him so soon after Anthony's funeral would be a mistake. Seeing him again this evening would still be too soon.

Nadia closed her eyes and saw her mother again. Men like Jay could have anyone they wanted, they were used to girls flinging themselves at them with all the subtlety of a custard pie in the face. It never hurt to keep them hanging on.

Finding it hard to believe that she was actually taking Leonie's advice, Nadia said quickly, “I'm busy tonight. And tomorrow.”

There. She'd done it.
Yes.

“Oh right. That's a shame.”

Beginning to panic, she tried to gauge whether Jay was heartbroken, disappointed, or at this very moment flicking through the pages of his little black book. When all he'd uttered were five words, it was hard to tell.

“This weekend's difficult. Um, but maybe next weekend… I'm free then.” Out of the corner of her eye Nadia saw Miriam smiling broadly. “I mean, I think I'm probably free then… I'd have to check my diary.”

Just in case that's when I'm having dinner with Robbie Williams and it's completely slipped my mind.

“OK. Well, we'll talk about it later in the week,” said Jay, which sounded a bit too casual for her liking. “And when I see you on Monday I'm paying you back for that taxi.”

“No need.”

“Every need. How much was it?”

“Oh well, if you really insist,” said Nadia. “Three hundred and fifty pounds.”

The phone rang again twenty minutes later as Nadia was polishing off a doorstep of toast and Marmite. Clare, who had belatedly surfaced and was moodily stirring a mug of coffee, leapt up as if she'd just sat on an electric fence.

“I'll get it!”

Nadia hoped it wouldn't turn out to be Piers.

Snatching up the phone, Clare said eagerly, “Yes?”

Her shoulders sagged as someone who clearly wasn't Piers replied.

“Hang on. I'll get her.”

As though the phone had suddenly grown fifty times heavier, Clare waved it feebly at Miriam. “Gran, for you.”

Miriam, wearing slim black trousers and a black jersey top, was at the sink scrubbing last night's barbecue racks with her customary vigor. She glanced over her shoulder. “Who is it?”

“Don't know.” Clare shrugged, uninterested. “He didn't say.”

As Miriam peeled off her wet rubber gloves, Nadia wondered if she was tempted to swipe Clare round the head with them. Diamonds glinted as Miriam seized the phone.

“Hello?”

Pause.

“I'm sorry, who is this?”

Looking up, Nadia saw her grandmother's spine stiffen.

Miriam switched off the phone.

“What was
that
about?” Nadia demanded.

The rubber gloves were back on. Miriam, returning her attention to the metal racks in the sink, said, “Hmm? Oh nothing. I ordered some bath towels from John Lewis and they've come in.”

Clare and Nadia exchanged glances. Bathroom towels. Of course.

“If Piers phones you up,” Nadia addressed Clare, “you want to tell him to take a running jump.” Into a cesspit, preferably. “Jay rang earlier asking to see me tonight and I said I was busy all weekend.” She couldn't help sounding smug.

Clare raked her fingers through her uncombed hair and rattled irritably through the pages of the newspaper in search of the horoscope.

“I'm fine. Just let me handle things my way, OK? Piers isn't going to get away with this.”

Honestly.

“Excuse me,” said Nadia. “I think he already has.”

The metal barbecue racks clattered onto the drainer. Miriam, snapping the rubber gloves off once more, turned and stalked out of the room.

“Whoever that was, he's rattled Gran.” Clare raised her eyebrows. “You don't think she's been having an affair, do you?”

This wasn't likely. Miriam didn't have enough spare time for an affair.

“Bookmaker?” suggested Nadia. “Maybe she's been gambling and owes loads on her account. Did he sound like the kind of man who might send the heavies round?”

“Just sounded a bit Scottish.” Clare had a brainwave. “Ooh, how about a long-lost relative? Miriam's illegitimate son?”

“Son! How old was he?”

“How would I know? Next time he rings I'll ask him his date of birth, and if he could send a photo of himself along with a DNA sample, even better.”

“Anyway, don't change the subject.” Nadia was stern. “You and Piers. I'm serious now. Isn't it time you binned him?”

Clare hesitated, clearly torn between maintaining a brash facade and needing to confide in someone, even if it was only the sister she spent most of her life bickering with.

“The thing is, I really like him.” Helplessly she shrugged. “I can't help it, I just
do
.”

“Even when he treats you like a pile of old dog poo?”

“He doesn't,” Clare flared back. “He forgot about the barbecue last night, that's all.”

“Dog poo,” Nadia repeated. “He's messing you about.”

“Oh God, I
know
.” With a howl of despair, Clare abruptly buried her face in her hands. “But it just makes me like him
more.
”

***

Upstairs, Miriam sat on the bed and dialed the number she'd obtained by calling information. The strings of pearls round her neck rattled as she straightened her shoulders then leaned forward to triple-check that the bedroom door was shut.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Miriam? Is that you?”

“Now listen to me. I never want you to call this number again, OK? That was my granddaughter who answered the phone. You have your own life and family, and I have mine. I don't want to see you or speak to you. It's all in the past. I'm serious.” Miriam heard her voice begin to crack and waver. “Just leave me
alone
.”

***

“Yay, brilliant, you're here.” Tamsin hugged Tilly like a long-lost best friend. “Welcome to the house of no-fun. I've been bored out of my skull.” She cast a sly glance in her father's direction. “Come on, I'll show you where you're sleeping. This is going to be so cool!”

Tamsin's bedroom was large and south-facing, with two single beds and posters of pop stars on every wall.

“Dad bought the second bed the other day, specially for you.” Bouncing onto her own, Tamsin slid a packet of cigarettes out from beneath the pillows and flung open the window. “Want one? Oh, go on, live a little. I've got a bottle of vodka for later, as well. God, aren't parents the pits? I've been grounded since Monday. One minute they're moaning that I'm under their feet the whole time. Then last Sunday I went out with some friends and came home a bit late and they went completely mental, said I wasn't to mix with people like that. I mean, does it make any sense to you? Their trouble is they don't know what they
do
want. Most of the girls in my class are so boring you just want to stick pins in them but the minute you meet a few who seem like a real laugh, you get told they're a bad influence. I'm telling you, it's doing my head in. Still, never mind, you're here now.”

“Right,” Tilly said uncertainly.

“
Bloody
right,” declared Tamsin.

***

“Look at the two of you.” Leonie gazed fondly at them from the doorway. “Getting on like a house on fire, just like a couple of sisters.”

Tilly thought of Nadia and Clare, who spent most of their time fighting. Tamsin, kneeling behind her on the bed, fashioning her hair into intricate plaits, gave her a prod between the shoulder blades.

“Um, could me and Tam go and get a McDonald's later?” Tilly said it as though the thought had just occurred to her.

“Well… did Tamsin tell you she'd been grounded? She was supposed to be back by eight o'clock last Sunday and she didn't come home until half past one in the morning.”

Half
one
? Good grief, thought Tilly.

“I could stay here,” Tamsin helpfully suggested, “while Tilly goes to McDonald's. But then I don't suppose she'd want to go on her own. Poor old Tilly, it's like she's being punished when she didn't even do anything wrong.”

“Ha, worked like a dream,” Tamsin crowed, kissing the ten pound note as they headed toward the town center.

“We have to be back by two o'clock.”

“Don't fuss! As long as we're together, they won't mind if we're a bit late. You're my chaperone.” Tamsin tucked her arm cozily through Tilly's. “My very own Mary Poppins.”

Except Mary Poppins was in control, thought Tilly. She wasn't secretly quaking in her lace-up boots, wondering what the hell her wayward charges might do next.

***

“You're late,” said Brian, and Tilly felt her palms grow sweaty.

“Tilly wanted to look around the shops,” Tamsin lied easily. “Dad, relax, we're here now. It's only half past three.”

“They're fine, darling,” Leonie chimed in. “Didn't I tell you there was nothing to worry about? Look at them, they've had a lovely time.”

A lovely time sitting in the not-very-clean studio apartment belonging to one of Tamsin's new-found friends. One of the friends her father disapproved of, it went without saying. Jif—
Jif!
—sported beige dreadlocks, many tattoos, and a quite staggering amount of facial jewelry. What with his tongue stud getting in the way, it had been quite hard to guess what he was talking about at times, and he didn't smell that great but he'd seemed all right in a grungy kind of way. And Tamsin liked him.

They hadn't really done much at the bedsit, just listened to music and smoked a lot. It had actually been rather boring, not that Tilly had told Tamsin this. Jif was seventeen and—according to Tamsin—like, totally cool.

“Are there any doughnuts left?” Tamsin was now rummaging through the fridge.

“You've just been to McDonald's,” Brian protested.

Tamsin, the ten pound note safely tucked away in the back pocket of her jeans, rolled her eyes at the stupidity of fathers. “We're growing girls, Dad. That was two hours ago. We're both starving again. Here,” she tossed a doughnut at Tilly, “catch.”

That evening they went out to a family-friendly pub where an Abba tribute band was playing on stage and children danced with their parents. The younger children anyway. “You must be joking,” Tamsin exclaimed when Brian teasingly suggested a twirl on the floor. “God, music for old fogies.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Wouldn't catch me doing that.”

Leonie wrapped an arm round Tilly's thin shoulders. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

Tilly nodded and smiled, and Leonie gave her a hug. Tilly, flushing with pleasure, thought, look at us, me and my mum having a nice time together. It gave her a warm glow in her stomach and she rested her head for a moment against Leonie's chest.

“Oh,
sweet
.” Tamsin was grinning broadly. “Quick, where's my violin?”

“Don't make fun,” said Leonie, squeezing Tilly's waist. “This is my baby.”

Tilly's throat ached with happiness.

“Come on.” Brian reached for Leonie as the band broke into “Waterloo.” “Time the old people had a dance. Here.” He dug a handful of pound coins from his pocket. “You two have a few games of pool. Stop you laughing at us.”

Jumping to her feet, Tamsin said cheerfully, “Haven't you old fogies ever heard of multitasking? We can play pool
and
laugh.”

***

Nadia picked Tilly up outside Bristol Temple Meads station when she arrived back on Sunday evening.

“Was it awful?”

“No, it was nice.” Tilly bundled her weekend bag onto the backseat and climbed into the car. “We had a great time. Mum bought me this.” She plucked at her black cropped top, then held up the silver necklace she was wearing. “And this.”

“‘St ends.'” Nadia studied the right-hand half of the silver heart. “Who's he, the patron saint of jewelry?”

Tilly flushed. “She bought Tamsin the other half. Together they make Best Friends.”

Right.

“So Tamsin's one says Be Fri.” Nadia put the car into gear. “You definitely got the better half.”

“And we won a competition at the pub this afternoon. The family quiz,” Tilly said with pride. “It was general knowledge, us against six other families, and we beat them all! I got a prize for that too.”

Nadia glanced sideways at her. There was no mistaking Tilly's joy in repeating the
F
word. Her heart sinking, Nadia wondered what Leonie was up to now.

“That's brilliant, what kind of prize?”

“A CD.” Tilly tugged her top down over her exposed tummy button, which was sporting a stick-on tattoo. At least Nadia hoped it was stick-on.

“Which CD?”

They looked at each other. Tilly said neutrally, “Hear'Say.”

Nadia gave her knee a consoling pat. “Oh well. Never mind.”